


Fostering Faith

by TheGriefPolice



Series: Fostering: the Series [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Clint Is a Good Bro, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha-centric, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, family by choice, fostering, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:24:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGriefPolice/pseuds/TheGriefPolice
Summary: Natasha has been placed in another foster home. She’s not surprised, adults don’t really like her. She’s disobedient, rude, and—worse of all—silent.These people are different. They act differently, treat her differently. Even her foster brother, who didn’t seem to like her, doesn’t let her think she’s unwanted. And Natasha... She’s not sure what to think of it.But when forces try to rip her away, Natasha needs to decide where her heart truly lies—something she never thought she would question.





	1. All-American House.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating around in my brain and I think I’ve finally got it all sorted out. It is a prologue to my “Fostering Hope” fic, but you can read in any order! It’ll be pretty short, maybe five chapters, but we’ll see.
> 
> Hope y’all like it!!!

Natasha glared out of the window in the back of the 2001 coupe she’d been shoved into earlier that day. She didn’t want to be placed in another home. She didn’t want to be moved again. She didn’t want to be anything but left alone. But no one seemed to care what she wanted—a fact she had finally come to terms with.

The car stopped in front of an all-American house, the social worker stepping out of the car and pushing her seat forward for Natasha to crawl out with her backpack clutched to her chest. 

Natasha hated that car.

The social worker walked toward the front door, and Natasha knew her place was to follow. They had what Natasha had assumed was a silent agreement. Natasha would do what was needed and the social worker could fuck off.

The woman knocked on the door, waiting with her arms wrapped around a clipboard. Natasha’s clipboard. The past three years summed up in a thin manila folder. The school records would be transferred digitally.

The door creeped open, a man with long brown hair appearing in the frame. He gave Natasha a small smile before stepping out of the doorway and inviting them in.

“Steve, they’re here!” The man called. 

Natasha followed the social worker into what must have been the nicest and coziest looking living room she had ever seen. She made a mental note not to touch anything. 

“Hey! Welcome!” A different man said, walking into the room with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. “Sorry, was just doing some laundry.”

Natasha had to keep down a gag. All-American man with blond hair and blue eyes living in an all-American house. The only difference was they were gay.

“Natasha, right?” The man—Steve?—said, holding out his hand.

Natasha nodded, staring at the hand for a moment before shuffling her backpack hanging by its single strap and taking the hand to exchange a hand shake. 

“I’m Steve, and this is Bucky. We’re really happy for you to be here.” The blond smiled.

That makes one of us, Natasha thought.

“Why don’t you show her to her room while I talk to the social worker?” Steve asked Bucky.

The dark haired man nodded. “Sounds like a plan.” 

Natasha followed the man up the stairs in silence, a white-knuckle grip on her backpack as he lead her to a room on the left just off the stairs. Bucky opened the door and stood to the side, seeming to want Natasha to step in first.

This was peculiar for many reasons, but Natasha pushed that to the side as she took in the room around her. The room was painted an off-white, almost eggshell cover. In the middle of the room was a full-sized bed with pale pink bedding and lamps on either side that matched. Other than a dresser off in the corner across from the door and a desk to Natasha’s left, the room was empty. 

“There’s not much here, but we were thinking we could all go shopping. Steve wants to get you some new clothes and I thought you might like decorating your room a bit.” Bucky said from the door frame as Natasha sat her backpack on the nicest duvet she had ever seen. 

Bucky knocked on a door across from the bed, one of two, and waited for a moment before opening it. “This is your bathroom. You have to share with Clint, but you’ll have your own sink.”

Natasha nodded, glancing into the bathroom just long enough to catch another door cracked open on the other side. She’d have to keep a close eye on this other kid. Who knew what kind of idiots were roaming around this house.

“Do you have anything else with you?” Bucky asked with a concerned look.

Natasha shook her head. 

“Okay. Well, go ahead and get settled in. You can come downstairs when you’re ready.” 

Natasha noticed something odd about the man as he turned to walk out of the room. His right arm moved freely at his side but his left... it seemed stiff and unresponsive. Maybe a normal seven-year-old wouldn’t be able to catch it, but she did. All it did was create more questions.

These people were an odd bunch. 

When she has stuffed both of her pairs of jeans and all three of her shirts into the dresser drawers, she shoved her backpack under her bed walked downstairs. The social worker was gone, but a young boy was standing in the living room, looking rather perturbed. 

Natasha almost felt bad for him.

“Ahh, here she is. Natasha, this is Clint.” Steve smiled, placing a hand on Clint’s shoulder so he would turn around. 

Natasha could almost feel the heat in the boy’s glare, and had to physically restrain herself from recoiling. No way was she going to let some boy get to her, especially not this tiny excuse for one. Just another foster sibling she was going to ignore or hate. This is why she hated homes.

“It’s still pretty early, but I’m going to start dinner so we can get a head start on tomorrow.”

Oh great, Natasha thought. Another new school. Fantastic.

Clint took his chance and walked off. Natasha decided to be on the opposite side of the house as much as possible. She’d be shipped off once these men grew tired of her infuriating silence. 

Dinner was silent, to Natasha’s surprise. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. If they were silent, no one would get mad at her for being so, too. But it could also mean that they were mad, or upset with something she had done. Both seemed equally likely.

Clint didn’t seem very interested in his food, pushing it around his plate without ever taking his eyes off the table. Natasha wondered if he was some kind of special-needs kid. The kind that rolled around and bashed their head on walls when they were upset. He didn’t quite look the type, but she wouldn’t be surprised. 

After dinner, Natasha was instructed to take a shower and get to bed. Natasha started at her foster parents for a bit longer than she should have, analyzing what they said. They didn’t want help cleaning up from dinner? They hadn’t said anything about cleaning the room spotless. Nothing. Just “head up up stairs for bed.”

Clint was staring hard at Steve as he spoke, the first time Natasha had seen him stare at a person all day. Something must have clicked on his head, because he nodded and stood up from the table with his plate. He put it in the sink, then walked up to his room.

As much as it pained Natasha to do so, she followed suit. Clint took the first shower, Natasha going second and using the spare time to snoop around before anyone could stop her. The upstairs was simple enough, four bedrooms, a linen closet with a washer and dryer, and not much else. The room immediately across from hers was mostly empty, save for a single twin bed made up and a simple blue area rug. Natasha guesses it was a temporary room—something foster homes had for kids who needed to be removed from a situation quickly and placed somewhere before they were officially put in a foster home. 

She went back to her room when the water shut off and laid on the bed. This house was weird. Much weirder than any of the other foster homes she’d been in. But it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be staying long. Her dad would come and get her soon, just like he’d promised. And then she’s never have to be in another foster home again.


	2. Don’s Mess with my Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a TW for those reading: there is a bit of harassment from a classmate, so please be wary if that’s not something you’re comfortable with.

Natasha zoned out as Steve explained what her day would look like and her new school. She didn’t care because she wouldn’t be staying at their house for more than a few weeks. When she arrived at the school full of colorfully dresses students, Natasha ignore them as she stares at her foster brother and a parent classmate. Even with all the ruckus, he didn’t seem to be looking around. Instead, he has his face buried in what must be a sketch book drawing some kind of man with an arrow. When a door slammed shut down the hall—the result of a kindergartener kicking it—the rest of the class jumped, but Clint didn’t so much as look up for more than a moment. 

Natasha’s eyes squinted just a hint as she analyzed the boy. It seemed he didn’t speak much, either. Natasha hasn’t even heard him whisper a word since she had arrived yesterday afternoon. Not that it mattered, she didn’t care if he talked or not. So long as he wasn’t bothering her.

The class was welcomed into the classroom by the teacher, a y’all African American man with a kind smile. Natasha felt like he would be a decent teacher, but elected to forget about forming a connection with him. She would be gone in a few months and then it wouldn’t matter.

The teacher—Mr Wilson—didn’t make her stand up, didn’t give her special attention for being the new kid, didn’t even ask her for an introduction. He started the morning announcements as if nothing had changed from last week. Natasha wasn’t sure how she felt about it, but the best she could think of was relieved. There would be no awkward silence, not odd stares, no laughter after the teacher asked her to sit back down. 

Halfway through the day, the class was excused for lunch and then recess. Natasha stayed close to the edge of the playground, too far away to be asked to play games but too close for the teachers to intervene with her disconnection from the other students. It was a formula that took a long time to figure out, but she had it down to a science now. So long as she moved around every few minutes, no one would pay her any mind.

The day was over almost as quickly as it had begun. Steve was at the door to collect Natasha and Clint after free time. They all walked to the car in silence, Steve looking over the papers he had been given by Mr Wilson.

“You all seemed to have had a good day, huh?” He smiled into the review mirror as Natasha and Clint buckled themselves into the SUV. 

Clint looked up, taking a movement before he nodded. Natasha’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as Steve turned around and started up the car. What kind of adult actually looked over school reports that weren’t marked with seven gallons of red ink. 

The next few days passed near the same. Nothing happened that had any significance. Natasha woke up, went to school, came home, ignored homework, then went to bed. It wasn’t until Bucky placed her at the table next to Clint and worked through the homework that she started to do it. She wasn’t even sure how to respond. An adult was walking her through math problems as if it mattered to them that she did well in school. And Bucky never once laughed if she got something wrong or messed up.

It was during this time that Natasha noticed Bucky’s hand, hidden under long sleeves and never brought to attention. Bucky’s left hand always sat to the side of under the table as Bucky used his right to point and count. Natasha was careful to only give the hand side glances when she knew Bucky wasn’t paying attention. And, as she had been told, she said nothing. She’d nod when Bucky explained something and she understood, or shake her head when she didn’t. 

Clint seemed to have a hard time understanding anything. Natasha could tell he wasn’t stupid, because he’d picked up things quickly when watching other people do it. He just didn’t seem to understand when people were explaining concepts. 

A week and a half into her stay, Natasha and finally managed to find a phone. Steve and Bucky always seemed to keep theirs close and the home phone was hardly ever used and constantly left in odd places or dead. Natasha would find it, place it on the charger, and by the time she broke free to snatch it, it would be gone again. After homework had been finished and Bucky was working on dinner, Natasha saw her chance and snagged the home phone and ran up to her room as quietly as possible. 

She closed her bedroom door, holding the knob so it wouldn’t click against the door jam and gently letting go when it was in place. She pushed her back against the back wall under the window, giving her sight of the door but obscuring her from anyone who might walk in. She punched in the numbers she knew by heart, pulling her knees to her chest as she put the phone up to her ear and waited.

One ring, two rings, three rings—

“Who is this?” The other line broke through with a man’s deep voice. 

Natasha smiled as she said, “Dad, it’s me.”

“Natasha, my girl. Where are you?” He asked. Shuffling could be heard over the phone, as if he was getting up to speak to her privately.

“Another foster house.” Natasha looked towards the door. “When are you coming to get me?”

“It will take some time, but I promise it won’t be very long.” Her father said. “We have to get some money together to make sure we are safe.”

Natasha nodded, that made sense.

“That’s a good girl. Is this the number for the house you are staying in?”

“Yes.” Natasha heard footsteps and kept her voice down as she whispered. “How long?”

“I am not sure, but I have to go. Be a good girl.”

The phone went dead before Natasha could respond. She felt her eyes grow hot as she sat the phone to the side and placed her head on her knees. The same words, the same promise. But she just had to hold out. It wouldn’t be much longer now. Right? He wouldn’t lie to her.

Natasha ate dinner in a somber silence, something that was not unusual. Clint was humming across the table, no true tune coming out. It was one single note at different volumes. Steve and Bucky made no comment, and Natasha wasn’t about to.

After dinner, Natasha put her plate in the sink and sulked off to her room. Her thoughts kept her up, but it wasn’t until she heard Steve’s voice in the hallways that she got out of bed. She cracked her door open to see Steve folding towels and putting them into the linen closet. Bucky was tossing clothes into the washer as he spoke.

“We should just ask him. I don’t think the hearing aides are enough.” Bucky said. “His doctor said he could hear well enough with them, but it doesn’t seem like he understand what we’re saying if there’s anything else going on.”

Steve nodded. “Maybe it’s time we take him out of a basic track. We could get him into a school for the deaf? Learn ASL?”

Bucky let out a huff as he stood up from filling the dryer. “That may be a good idea, even if we go about an implant. Teach Clint and Natasha. Maybe it would give her a way to talk without having to use her voice.

“Were we ever told why?” Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head. “The social worker didn’t seem involved enough to care. At least we got her school records.”

Natasha closed her door and went to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Too many thoughts were racing through her head, but she managed a few hours of sleep before a few knocks cane through her door.

“Time for school.” Steve said. Natasha could hear his footsteps as he walked off.

That was just another weird thing about this house—they never bathed into her room. They hardly even came in. It felt like they were trying to give her space, and Natasha had been unreasonably grateful. 

School dragged on as normal, Natasha giving just enough effort for the teacher to leave her alone. Another balance she had worked out after so many foster homes. Simple and easy.

Recess came as it always did, finding Natasha roaming on the other side of the playground, away from the teachers and students. She plopped down on a patch of grass with a stick, drawing shapes in the first around her. The rain had washed away all of her drawings from the past week, giving her a fresh area to work with.

It wasn’t until dirt was thrown in her face that Natasha noticed someone else was in front of her. Natasha jumped to her feet, staring at a boy as he smirked towards her.

“What’re you doing over here, freak?” He asked.

Natasha knee this boy from what her table mates had told her. His name escaped her mind, but everything else was fresh as day. He was entitled and rude. Had chased after every girl in class in one way or another, one of the girls from her group said. She had been warned to stay away, and Natasha was more than happy to comply. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He demanded, tossing more dirt on her clothes. 

Her brand new clothes that Steve and Bucky has gotten her over the weekend. The ones they had let her choose without stopping her as she asked for every shirt with a butterfly on it that she could find. Yeah, she liked butterflies—fight her.

“I heard the teachers talking about you—said you were a mute. Sounds to me like you’re too dumb to even talk right.”

A small group has gathered as Natasha’s hands balled at her sides. She wasn’t a fan of fights, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how. 

“Leave her ‘lone.” A mumbling voice said.

Natasha and the boy looked up at the same time to find Clint’s angry face walking closer.

“Oh, look. The boy who’s too stupid to hear!” The boy laughed, a few kids from the crowd joining in. “What’re you going to do about it, huh? You and your dumb friend ain’t gonna do nothing cause you’re too stupid to.”

And then Natasha saw Clint do the one thing she never expected anyone to ever do on her behalf—he punched the boy square in the face with all the force a seven-year-old could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to knock the boy onto his butt and the crowd to back off and give them space. 

“Don’t talk ‘bout my sis’er like that.” Clint said sternly.

The boy clutched his nose as he tried to scramble to his feet. Natasha didn’t give him the chance, giving the boy a swift kick to the ribs.

The phrase “and don’t talk about my brother like that” implied as she kicked dirt in his face.

The moment would have been much greater had a teacher from another class not spotted them, immediately dragging all three kids to the office. The crowd had scattered and kept their mouths closed as a third grade teacher asked them what happened. Natasha couldn’t help the skirt she had on her face as she sat next to Clint and across from the boy. 

It didn’t take long for Steve and Bucky to burst through the office doors and Natasha could feel her heart drop into her stomach as she took in their faces. They seemed mad, and Natasha knew what happened when adults got mad at children. It didn’t end well and Natasha had the bruises to prove it.

“Tasha, Clint, are you okay?” Steve asked as he crouched down in front of the pair. Natasha flinched as Steve’s hands came up to her face, but it didn’t stop him from lightly holding her head and twisting it a few degrees in every angle. 

Once Steve seemed content, he moved on to Clint. Bucky stood in front of the reception desk, talking to the lady and asking what happened. 

Natasha felt overwhelmed. What kind of adults cared what happened to kids when they got into fights?

Before Natasha could truly process the question, she was sitting at a table across from the boy and his father. A large man sat at the head of the table, his face sending shivers down Natasha’s spine. He looked like the human equivalent of an angry sharks and Natasha wasn’t sure what to do. She settled for sinking back in her chair, stealing glances at Clint and Steve as often as she dared.

The man passed Steve a note pad, gesturing to hand it to Clint. Natasha wasn’t sure why, but it seemed like Clint understood and started writing on the paper with a provided pencil.

“This seems to be an interesting situation.” The man said, his hands folded as he sat back in his chair.

“Interesting!” The boy’s father seemed flabbergasted. “These two beat up my son! He didn’t do anything to them!”

“This is hardly the first time your son has been involved in a situation like this.” The man as the head of the table said, leaning forward. “And I’m starting to see a pattern involving the girls in his class.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Fury?” The boy’s father asked.

Natasha stole a glance at Bucky as he sat leaning back in his chair and tight lipped. He seemed like he was waiting for the right time to intervene, but didn’t see an opportunity just jet.

The principle—Fury, apparently, which seemed fitting—leaned back in his chair and reached for a folder that had been placed on a table behind him. He placed it down on the board table and flipped it open. 

“His teacher has multiple complaints from parents about his behavior in class. He’s been pulling hair on the playground, it appears. In a metaphorical sense. If you would like the details, they’re all right there.” Fury pushes the file toward the boy’s parents.

The mother grabs the folder, looking it over before pushing it back toward the principle. “This is nothing more than boys being boys, I don’t see the problem.”

Natasha didn’t know why or how, but that seemed to strike a chord with Bucky. 

“Boys being boys?” Bucky sputtered a laugh. “That is an excuse we use for little boys to harass little girls that don’t deserve it! You’re teaching him that he has a right to bother these girls, something that is ungodly wrong.

“What happens when he gets to high school and starts snapping bra straps and groping women? Is that still ‘boys being boys’ to you? Would you want a little boy doing that to your daughter?”

The boy’s parents look petrified, and Natasha empathizes. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle being on the receiving end of that anger. 

“Do you?” Bucky asked, harsher this time.

The boy’s mother shook her head, resting an arm across the boy’s shoulders. “I would not, no.”

Buck huffed and sat back in his chair.

After Clint had finished writing whatever Fury asked, the note pad was handed to her. Steve’s hand came over quickly to write out a question at the top of the page—Tell me what happened. Natasha realized they must have done the same for Clint because he couldn’t really hear and gave a soft smile at the paper as she took the pencil and wrote down everything that happened.

In the end, the boy was suspended for two days and Natasha and Clint were let off with recess detention for a day. Steve and Bucky still seemed irritated as they lead Natasha and Clint our to the car, but the way Bucky was holding Natasha’s hand told her it wasn’t at them.

When they were all in the SUV, Steve let out a huff of air as he started the engine. He turned around in his seat to look at Natasha and Clint.

“I want you kids to know that we’re proud of you. Both for sticking up for each other and against that boy. What he was doing wasn’t right, and Bucky and I will never be mad at you for defending yourselves. I would hope this doesn’t happen again, but know that we won’t fault you if it does.” 

Natasha felt herself floored once again about the two men in charge of her care. Adults that didn’t scream or yell when something happened, that stood up for their kids, that helped with homework, and cared about keeping them on track for school. Natasha wondered for a moment if this was how all parents were supposed to be, but she shook her head as she realized that couldn’t be the case.

She wasn’t supposed to yet attached, she wasn’t supposed to like the people she was staying with. Everyone else had made it so easy. Why did this family have to be the hard one. Why did they have to make her feel like she belonged. 

A hang gently grasped hers, making her look up. Clint’s dark eyes met hers, a soft smile at the side of his mouth. A reassuring smile, as if he could feel everything Natasha was feeling. And then it hit her that he understood. He was from the same place, the same unsteady life. 

A small flutter in her chest made her look away as she squeezed Clint’s hand. Her brother’s hand. The reassurance that sat next to her in the SUV, not a single word needing to pass between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!!!


	3. Please Don’t Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am the BIG dumb. I have had the third chapter finished for, like, two months and forgot to post it. Was just going through works to see if there was anything to work on and realized the third chapter of this was already done!

Ff3

Clint laughed as Steve made an odd face while trying to sign. Natasha couldn’t help but chuckle too as Steve’s face broke into a small grin. 

“Come on, guys! Work with me!” Steve chuckled as he pointed down at the book. 

Natasha stole a glance at the book, watching the cartoon character put their thumb to their forehead and move it down to their chest. The word “boy” was written beside it. 

Steve and Bucky had been working after school with Natasha and Clint everyday to teach them Sign Language. It was meant as a way to help people communicate, Steve had said, without needing to hear or speak. Natasha wasn’t stupid, she knew it was for deaf people. That’s the only time she had ever seen it used. Bucky and Steve were just trying to be nice.

As much as it pained her, that boy’s words were stuck in her head. She could talk. She knows she can because she does when it’s needed. But she just doesn’t. Maybe she is just stupid. She used to talk all the time. She would sing when she played and laugh when she ran. She made all kinds of noise. But then someone had told her to stop.

Maybe “told” was being a bit to imprecise. They demanded. Natasha could still feel the sting in her face from where they had slapped her if she got too loud. She could feel the pressure on her chest from where they had pushed her so hard she fell down and bashed her head against the floor. She could feel the hand wrapped around her wrist from every time someone had grabbed her and yanked her around. From foster home to foster home, from person to person, from school to school. All of them demanding new rules and new expectations. Natasha couldn’t stop it, she had no say.

The same time she realized she had no choice in her life was the same time she went mute.

“Okay, I think it’s time for a break.” Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair as he signed “pause.”

Clint nodded, getting up from his seat as he fiddled with his hearing aides. He walked off down the hall and Natasha decided to follow him.

She wasn’t sure what, in the past few weeks, had changed about their relationship, but she knew it was different. They hung out a lot more, even if they weren’t really interacting. Natasha would read and Clint would play video games and they’d be in the same room, and that was enough.

It seemed that Clint was walking to his room, swinging the door open and leaving it like that as he flopped down on the floor to play with a stack of legos and a few action figures. Natasha had never been in Clint’s room, but it had a close resemblance to Natasha’s. A simple set up, bed, nightstand, dresser. The only difference was that Clint had a desk covered in toys. 

“You can come in.” Natasha heard Clint say softly. 

Natasha had been standing by the door jam, not in the room but not really in the hallway, either. She took a step forward, officially in the room, and then sat down on the floor. Clint pushed a pile of legos towards Natasha, continuing his own build.

Natasha picked up a few pieces and stuck them together. She didn’t really have anything in mind to build, but it was something to do. 

When Clint stood up, Natasha watched him walk over to his desk, pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil. When he sat back down, he pushed the pad and pencil toward Natasha as he asked, “Why do you keep taking the home phone at night?”

Natasha looked up, dumbfounded. How had Clint known she was taking the phone? No one ever saw her, she was sure of it.

“I have a light,” Clint said as he pointed up at the ceiling, “it tells me when people are near my door so I know when to open it. It lights when you go in and come out of your room, too, cause its so close.”

How had Natasha never noticed that before? When she looked up, it was obvious—a light over the door frame with a wire fed through the wall to what Natasha assumed was a motion sensor. She’d seen something close to it at a different foster home.

“I not gonna tell them, promise.” Clint said as he held a hand over his heart.

Natasha but her lip as she weighed her options. 

Clint was a foster kid too, just some little thing that had noticing to do with what was going to happen. He could get away before anything happened and be safe. As the only kid that had ever been nice to Natasha, she decided he deserved to know. He was basically her brother now, even if what was going to happen had them never seeing each other again.

Natasha picked up the pencil and wrote as best she could.

“Your dad? Why are you calling him?”

This conversation was going to be way too long if Natasha had to write everything down, she realized. She swung her head to look over her shoulder, having her legs follow so she could kick the door shut. When the door knob clicked in place, she turned back to Clint.

“My dad is not a good man.” She said softly, terrified someone else might hear. “I ran away and he found out and snatched me right back up. When I did it again, he let the social workers take me. When I was settled in to my first foster home, he called.”

Natasha bit her lip. She didn’t want to tell Clint what happened. But he was her friend, and she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt. She didn’t want anyone to get hurt. This was the first place that had ever felt like a home. They gave her space, never got mad at her silence, never barged into her room, never withheld food or locked it away. Steve and Bucky were good people. 

Why was this happening? Why couldn’t they have been assholes like everyone else?

“Tasha, what happened?” Clint asked, concern lining his voice.

Natasha sighed, looking everywhere that wasn’t Clint’s eyes. “He told me to keep quiet. To not say a single word to anyone any more. If I did, he said he’d find me and hurt me. He said to call him every time I went someplace new and tell him where everything valuable was or else he would find me and hurt everyone in the house.”

Tears were running down Natasha cheeks as she spoke. “I didn’t want him to hurt anyone; I didn’t know what to do. So I just do what he says.”

“What happens when you tell him all that stuff?” Clint asked. Natasha could see how scared he was, and she wasn’t sure if it was because she was crying or because of what she was saying.

“He breaks into the house and steals everything. Anything that will have value.”

There was a tense pause, Natasha unable to breathe.

“You gotta tell Steve and Bucky.” Clint said as he pushed he toys to the side to stand up.

Natasha jumped up, holder her hands out. “You can’t! If you do, he’ll hurt you too. He’ll hurt Steve and Bucky and anyone else in the house. Everything. Please, Clint. Please don’t tell them.”

Clint glared at Natasha. “What happens if I don’t.”

“Then he’ll break in during the middle of the day. He’ll take what he wants and he’ll leave without hurting anyone. Please, Clint. I’ve tried to warn people and they all got hurt. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Natasha was begging, pleading, hoping Clint would listen. Hoping that he’d understand.

Clint let out a huff of air, lips tight as he said, “I keep quiet and no one gets hurt.”

Natasha nodded her head. “Please, Clint. Please.”

Clint looked down at his balled fists, glaring at the floor. It was quiet and Natasha panicked as she waited for an answer.

“I won’t tell.” Clint growled. “But if anyone gets hurt, I will tell everyone what you did.”

Natasha nodded, relieved and terrified at the same time. Her chest felt like a bolder had been placed on top of her, this one larger than the original that only held the fear of her father. 

The only thing that kept her from losing her resolve was the knowledge that her father wouldn’t go back on his word. If no one knows, no one gets hurt. That was the deal. He’d never gone against it before.

Clint turned away from her, and Natasha knew she was being dismissed. She pulled the door open and walked back over to her room, trying to gasp in a breath. She hoped that Clint kept his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated but never expected!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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